Habitual Bastards
by Rayne-Jelly
Summary: Harry and Draco have a chat, they cover all the important topics, answer a few of my questions, and in the end, nothing's changed. It's a talkfest, but it's amusing.


**Author's notes:** Okay, I wrote this a long time ago. It's imperfect, it's out of character, it's random, and it has no otherworldly significance. But every time I read it I laugh, I laugh so hard I cry, and I felt like sharing it. I guess you could call it a vignette, but let's not get fancy. Just… enjoy it for what it is, and know that it's SUPPOSED to be so out of character, that's the point.

On with the show.

"Not jumping are you Potter?" Asked one Draco Malfoy as he rounded the bend at the top of the stairs and entered the uppermost chamber of the Astronomy tower to find one Harry Potter sulking against a turret. An open book lay in Harry's lap, but the pages appeared blank and Harry was staring at the glass-domed ceiling.

"Did you know, Malfoy," Harry asked dreamily, his nose still pointing skyward but his eyes fixed firmly on Draco's face, "That you are the seventh person that's asked me that question this evening? Though I must admit, I liked your way of putting it, 'Don't jump Potter, let me shove you, or better yet, I'll kill you then throw you over the edge. A quick shove, a nice splat, and everybody's happy.' Versus the traditional simpering and whining, 'oh Harry, please don't jump! You've got so much to live for! I'm here for you, please Harry, you're the Boy Who Lived!' Insipid the lot of them.

"However in answer to your earlier question and that of your six predecessors: no. I have no intention of becoming a Gryffindor pancake. The Headmaster would be _so _disappointed."

Malfoy snorted with something akin to hearty laughter, though he couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Very good Potter," he said, just shy of failing to suppress a grin, "but you must know by now that it is never on my agenda to make _everyone_ happy. Furthermore, I do not use the word 'splat.'"

It was Harry's turn to laugh, but the sound was weak and barely worth the hiss had he given it. "Figures," he muttered sullenly. "What do you want Malfoy?" Oh that sentence, it was like stepping into old, familiar shoes.

But Malfoy wasn't willing to rise to the bait, "The same thing that you want I'd imagine."

"I come here to think Malfoy."

"Most people come here not to think." Malfoy slid gracefully to the floor beside him.

"When the see me up here, they scurry away. Afraid to disturb the great Harry Potter lest he be planning, scheming, thinking, practicing, formulating the ultimate move to finally kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As though I don't have enough to worry about with ordinary classes, they want me to think of bloody Voldemort all the time!? Maybe I _do _come up here not to think."

"Do I sense some bitterness?"

"Jealous?"

"Of what? The figurehead status, the fame? Or the bitterness, envy, and martyrdom?"

"Any of it. All of it." Harry was staring at the book now, absently fiddling with its blank pages. His voice was rising desperately in pitch.

"No." Draco said, bringing him back to earth, "I have my own share of bitterness thank you."

"Mmm." Harry conceded.

They sat in silence for a long time, backs to the turrets and feet dangerously close to tangling together. Harry had resumed his scrutiny of the stars while Draco watched the empty book. Was it enchanted with special ink, only able to be read by someone specific, was it a diary that kept secrets for it's owner, was it a blank portfolio in which all the pictures had fled? "A sickle for your thoughts Potter?" The silence was deafening, it should've been raining, Draco decided.

"It would bore you. It's purely an academic pursuit."

"Indulge me."

"Keep your sickle and return the favor."

"A deal, though I never thought I'd be exchanging thoughts with you."

"Yes that's fascinating Malfoy, our first civil conversation and you bring up ancient grudges. And people say you have social skills…"

Draco snorted and shook the hair from his eyes, "I seem to fail at everything when it concerns you, but you were saying, about academia?"

"Right. You know what a Polyjuice Potion is right? I was just… trying to figure out how it works. I mean, I know you brew the potion, torture yourself with its stink for a month, then drink it with a clump of hair or whatever, but… how does it work?"

"What do you mean how does it _work? _Didn't you just answer your own question?"

"Not at all. You add hair or someone else's body part… uh it's nasty. And then you turn into that person, temporarily and at great pain, but you acquire all of their scars and worry lines, the drinker reflects everything about who the drinker wants to turn into, hair length etcetera, but none of that is genetic. Take for example, if someone were to turn into me, then they would get this damned scar and my bad eyesight, only one of which is genetic. Relying solely on genetics, hypothetically, you would turn out bald, scarless, and without lines, like… hell this is difficult to explain… like a fresh copy because none of the acquired traits are in the original DNA.

"What's more, the voice of the person isn't reflected, even if things like eyesight are. If anything, the voice of the drinker after they drink the potion should be identical to the person they're trying to become unless that person's voice has been effected by something like cigarette smoke, simply because the shape and size of the larynx/vocal chords/voice box are all genetic. I just don't understand it!"

Draco blinked, once, twice, and again. Harry's thoughts were straying towards the academic, and it was terrifying. "I think I liked you better when I thought you were stupid." He said numbly.

"But I _am _stupid! I don't understand it!"

"Not understanding and being stupid are entirely different things. Most people wouldn't have thought to ask those questions because 1, they understand, 2 they really ARE stupid, or 3, they've grown up around magic. People that've grown up around things like this don't bother to wonder because we know it's magic. The minute the hair comes out of the scalp, it loses connection to the body, but has an imprint of the person to date, the hair acts as a focus, and replicates every detail of the person. It's like… taking a person, and replicating them from a specific chunk of time. If you were to drink polyjuice potion with my hair in it, and while you were me, I got a scrape, you wouldn't get that scrape because you're reflecting me at one time while I'm continuing to age and grow. It's very difficult to explain, but the long and short of it is, the hair has a magical imprint that relays the exact appearance at the time you removed the hair, not a genetic one, which would cause your 'fresh copy.'"

Malfoy shrugged indifferently, "As for the voice thing… I have no idea. I suppose the only way to find out would be to ask a potions master."

"Ha. As though Snape would let me ask him anything, 'Potter, 50 points off Gryffindor for asking questions that could potentially lead to the breaking of school rules, and another 20 for irritating me!' He hates me remember?"

Draco laughed at Harry's impression of Snape, though he didn't quite appreciate the fact that Potter should think so ill of his favorite teacher. "Well, you could always ask the creator."

"He's been _very_ dead for over 500 years."

"How is one very dead?"

"One is mutilated, sodomized, beheaded, then incinerated."

"Lovely."

"I thought so."

"You could resurrect his spirit, but that requires a sacrifice, and it takes _years _off your life."

"I'm so comforted by the things you know, really. Makes one _want_ to jump. I just… I wish there was a way to figure this stuff out. I mean, I'm not horrible at math, but I can't stand Calculus so Arithmancy's out, I don't know how you can stand it. I just… I love magic, I just want to know how it works."

"It's _magic _Potter. There is no _understanding _it. Frankly I'm surprised Granger hasn't had a mental breakdown by now, though I suppose she's the type to memorize and regurgitate."

"Yeah, I guess she is. Hermione's never really wondered why about anything. I mean… I know that she wants to know everything about everything but… I wonder if she's ever asked the question 'why' in her entire life."

"So you're really up here to get away from your friends."

"No."

"Then Christ Potter, why are you here? I mean, it's rather rude to be depriving all the poor young lovers their snogging rendezvous."

Harry laughed and placed his chin in his palm, looking at Draco through his fingers, "That has got to be the most ridjiculous thing I've ever heard. But while we're on the subject, am I depriving _you _of that very spot? Got some hot date tonight Malfoy?"

Draco sniffed indignantly, "I am under no obligation to answer that, but for the record, no. I have more taste than that, if I were to arrange an encounter with a young woman, it would never be somewhere so clichéd as the Astronomy tower."

Harry shook his head and grinned, "You are a piece of work, but you are under an obligation if you'll recall. I told you what was on my mind, so spill."

"You have no tact." Malfoy said sternly, the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement, "But, a deal's a deal. I was wondering what was in that book of yours."

"That is a blatant lie Malfoy, even I know enough to know that you wouldn't have sat through all of that just because you were wondering what's in my book, but if you insist…" Harry trailed off, rolling his eyes. "It's just a journal." Harry handed it over to him, and Draco flipped it open. On the first page there was a single word, "Shit." But there was nothing following it, nor was there ink on any of the following pages.

"How novel Potter."

Harry shrugged, "Hermione gave it to me, I didn't have anything but that to put in it. Just… think about it, it'll make sense in a moment."

Draco did think about it, what were journals for anyway? People that whined or told their little books about their day, but when the shit hit the fan, it was all inconsequential drivel. Shit, it was all shit. Draco grinned. It was getting late, but Draco wanted to read more, he was interested, and Harry was right, this was the first civil conversation they'd ever had. He had to sleep, but he very much doubted that Harry would let him keep the journal. Intent on giving it back, Draco closed the book gently and went to hand it to Harry, but he was staring blankly to the sky again, it was overcast.

Draco dug a sickle out of his pocket and flicked it in Harry's direction, it bounced off his chin and landed in his lap. "Sickle for your thoughts?"

Harry picked up the sickle and stared at it blankly before laughing like it was the end of the world. It was a desperate little laugh, the laugh of someone to whom everything had suddenly become clear and horrible, the laugh of someone condemned, the laugh of utter hopelessness, and Draco joined in. "This is surreal." Harry said when his chuckles died down.

"A little surrealism never hurt anyone."

"This kind might. I can just see it now. Come morning, I'll regret everything I've said, I'll regret letting you see shit, I'll regret telling you about the Polyjuice potion problem because I know that you'll ask Snape. He'll give you 20 house points for academic excellence then you can sit there and gloat as you keep exactly how it works from me until I beg you to tell me. Then Ron will give me that pitifully betrayed "why were you talking to _him _about _that?!_" expression and Hermione will be worried about me for the rest of the month. And it will all be because of a little surrealism because you'll be able to gloat and share shit and… where are my Slytherin instincts?"

"In Gryffindor." Malfoy said unsympathetically, "You don't have any."

"More than you know." Harry said cryptically, "but apparently they've gone to rot because I told you about needing to know why, and I've told you about shit and all you did was ask about my bloody journal, so really you've got nothing to lose."

"So now you're praying that the surrealism will continue into morning and I won't tell a soul about any of the most insignificant things ever."

"Insignificant?"

"Yes insignificant. I mean, the fact that you're having a panic attack is the worst thing you've done tonight, so what, your journal only has one word in it. So what, you want to know why things work and you're not as stupid as we've all given you credit for… how am I supposed to use that against you?"

"Where are _your _Slytherin instincts?"

"I left them in the dorm. Besides, the fact that we're both out after hours would give me away as well. And… picking on you is getting rather pathetic. It's not like I get a rise out of it, and you certainly don't care anymore. Seeing just how many shades of red the weasel can turn is getting rather tedious."

Harry chuckled again, "I'd say about 5. What was your estimate?"

"Seven."

"But I suppose calling a truce would be moot."

"Yes."

"So why are we here?"

Draco lifted an aristocratic eyebrow, "What do you mean? I though you came here to think, and I came here…"

"To jump?"

"Maybe. I just wanted to wander. I wasn't bored exactly, I have plenty to do, I just wanted to take a walk and my feet led me here." Harry stared at him pointedly, "I think I'm beginning to see your point."

"So why are we here?"

"Because we are?"

"Oh I can see that this is going to be an intelligent conversation. The reason we're here is because we are here, and if we were to go back in time and not be here then we would upset the cosmic balance. Absolutely genius, really."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you. Why do you always need to know why anyway?"

"Because I like to know how things work."

"Not to be a ponce but… why?"

"Things, any thing and everything can be used as a tool. If you don't know how things work, then when it backfires you don't know how to fix it, and you can't use it to its full potential."

"You've spent too much time with Moody."

"That's probably true. But Alastor's not altogether a bad person."

"Keep telling yourself that Potter, when you wind up bouncing four feet off the ground as a bloody ferret, your opinions may change."

"I've always meant to ask you, did that hurt?"

"Yes. It's not like I knew where or how to land, and I had no control over how fast I was hitting the ground because I was a ferret, I even cracked ribs! And my poor ears really hurt because everyone was very big, and their voices were very big, and they were _laughing _at me."

"So when you say your ears hurt you mean to say your pride hurt."

"Well… that was a little bruised as well."

"I never did get to say I felt bad about that. I mean, I suppose you deserved it, but… I wouldn't wish the life and bouncing of a ferret on anyone."

"Why thanks for that Potter."

There was a long silence, Harry stared at his worn-out Muggle trainers, Draco stared at the over cast sky. He didn't know why the creators of the school didn't just put the same charm on it that they had for the great hall ceiling, but he supposed that looking though stone somehow altered the night sky. At least the glass had an ever-clean charm on it, in addition to many strong bird-poop repellents. "Do you suppose we really are here simply because we're supposed to be? Talking or fighting, or being general asses like we usually are?"

"I've refrained from being an ass today thank you very much Potter. I'm so glad to note that you noticed, though… I suppose I only didn't hex you with your back turned is because you looked like you wanted to take a dive out the window."

"I told you I wasn't going to, you could've hexed me then."

"You were being amusing, I didn't want to ruin it."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Do you suppose we're just supposed to stay here?"

"I don't know… I don't feel like going just yet. In fact… I think staying here forever seems like a good idea."

"Are you dreading our DADA assignment that much?"

"No… I just like it here. No worries."

"Yeah."

"So I guess that's why we came."

"No worries."

"Yeah."

"Malfoy…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm afraid I might need to use you for a pillow." Harry said with a massive yawn that made his jaw crack.

"What makes you think I won't kill you for suggesting that?"

"The fact that you haven't yet. And The fact that your feet have been keeping mine warm for at least an hour."

Draco looked down to see his feet ostensibly tangled up in Harry's, one of his feet was curled around Harry's, and Harry had the bare toes of his other foot buried under Draco's sock. "I suppose that's true." The blonde said, nodding slightly, "but only if I get to use you for one."

"Deal."

Harry's eyes slid shut the moment his head found Draco's shoulder, it really was quite comfortable, and this pillow didn't come in the stuffy environment that was Gryffindor Tower. "Potter, what would your friends think if they saw this?"

"Ron would think I was under the Imperius curse, though he wouldn't be able to figure out why I was sleeping on you. Then he would think I was 'nutters' and probably not speak to me for three weeks. So we'd use Hermione as a go between, and she'd allow it because she wouldn't know what to think, then in about a month, she'd come up with a crackpot theory that's invariably genius and we'd try to get on with our lives. Why? What would your friends think?"

"Crabbe and Goyle would grunt. They don't do much thinking." Harry laughed. "Pansy would say we were shagging."

Harry's laugh turned into a sputtered coughing, if he were drinking anything it would have come out both his mouth and nose. "Shagging!?"

"Well yes. I'm not that abhorrent am I?"

When Harry's coughing and spluttering calmed down (courtesy of Draco, pounding him on the back), he managed to squeak out, "But you're a guy!"

"So glad you noticed. I take it then that you're entirely straight."

"Well… yeah, I mean I guess so. I'm straight. Wait… are you… not?"

"Mostly no, I'm not."

Harry jerked away, completely losing body contact, Draco's ankle felt cold where his sock snapped back into place without Harry's toes. "I! God's I'm sorry, I mean, I didn't mean to insult you or anything and… here I am getting ready to sleep on you and… Wait. Why was I getting ready to sleep on you? You hate me. So it doesn't matter either way, does it."

Draco patiently waited him out and said, "Relax Potter. I wasn't going to molest you."

"I know that!"

"So why are you so afraid?"

Harry froze, his cold feet tucked under him, "I… don't know I guess. I don't have a problem with it I just… I don't know. It's not like we're friends or anything, so sleeping on you wasn't going to be a friendly gesture, and you're more likely to kill me in my sleep then molest me in my sleep…" he was speaking very slowly, as if reasoning with himself for something.

"Quite right." The cozy atmosphere had been shattered by Harry's outburst, Draco figured he might as well leave unless… "Wait. You said you 'guess so.' You don't know if you're straight or not do you?"

"Well of course I do." Harry said huffily, "I like girls just fine, I just don't have much experience with them."

Draco laughed. "Of course not."

Harry shrugged and leaned against the wall again, sidling up next to Draco, it was cold after all. "That's not entirely my fault you know. Normally I blame myself for everything, but the cosmos gets faulted for that one. They're either on missions from girl giggle groups to say 'I snagged Harry Potter' or they're too afraid to even talk to me. I can think of a total of three girls that think of me as me."

"So date one of them."

"Hermione, Ginny, and Luna? I think not."

Draco grimaced, "I see your point."

"Yeah. They're like siblings… very very strange siblings, but siblings nonetheless. Did you know that Hermione knew more about me than I did? Of course Ron did, but Hermione was Muggle born and she gave me a lecture on who I was the day I met her." Draco snorted, "I suppose you knew more about me too."

"Of course I did. When I learned your surname I was kicking myself. Of course… if I'd been nice to you, my father would have killed me."

"Your father scares me."

"He scares me too."

There was a pregnant pause while Harry got up the courage to ask, "Does your father know you're… gay?"

Draco wrapped a protective arm around Harry, and the Gryffindor didn't resist, "I don't know. I really don't, it's entirely possible he does, but I'm not exactly open about it. I think he'd kill me if I told him, and 'ignorance is bliss' or 'plausible deniability' thing. He might know, but if I never tell him he can go on thinking I'll be a perfect little pureblood stallion."

"That's a hell of an analogy, I wonder if there are gay horses…"

"Yes. Don't you know? Conceivably, every mammal in the world has members that are both homo and heterosexual, only humans are biased about it."

"Oh, I guess I didn't know that. Really? I… I don't know if the prejudices are strictly Muggle, or if wizards are homophobes too but… my uncle… God in heaven he was horrible to be around. I don't even want to think about it. Great blowhard he is."

Draco nodded solemnly, he knew the type all-too-well. "That explains it then."

"Explains what?"

"You."

"While I'll admit that my uncle may have been a driving force in my life, he can't possibly explain all of me. Care to elaborate?"

"The fact that you thought I'd be offended because you thought I was straight. You're so bloody afraid of offending me because I just handed you brilliant ammunition. Really Mr. Potter, you are extremely suppressed."

"I'm not suppressed!"

"Yes. You are."

"Then you must have a penchant for assigning disorders to people that are perfectly healthy. I am no more and no less suppressed than anyone else."

Draco laughed, "Snooty doesn't fit you either. I bet you never even think about it!"

"Think about what?"

"See! Think about sex, experimentation, with any sex, I bet you just wash your hair in the showers. Pha, Potter you don't even compare size do you?"

Harry blinked twice, and blushed a shade that would've turned Ron green with envy, "Now I know I'm dreaming. We've moved beyond the realm of surrealism, I'm in Gryffindor Tower, asleep, and I am _not _having this conversation!"

"Aw… you dream about me? How sweet Potter."

"Shove it Malfoy."

Draco threw back his head and laughed until his stomach hurt, "Merlin Potter! I'm just joking! Everyone knows that guys check each other out in the showers. It's a male ego thing, it's like… Christ I don't know, comparing brooms. Everyone knows that the Firebolt is top of the line, but most people figure that people with Firebolts are compensating for something. Showers are irrefutable proof you see."

Harry buried his face in his hands, "I can not believe I'm having this conversation!" He rocked back and forth in silent mortification, unsure of whether to laugh or cry, before he realized the barb in the words. "Hey! I did not buy that broom, and I'm very well endowed thank you very much."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I just… Christ I can't believe I'm having this discussion!"

"Yes yes, you're shocked and embarrassed, but we're the only two here, and you hold most of the cards, so get over it."

"Easy for you to say Malfoy, you're not the suppressed one!" They both chuckled when Draco hit Harry upside the head for throwing his words back at him. Harry stayed with his chin on his knees, Draco's hand on his shoulder for a long time. "I don't have… the… Oh who am I kidding, I have plenty of time to think about it, but… I don't. I'm always busy with school or the Order or… oh shit, you weren't supposed to know about that."

"What, the Order? Relax, you didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. You-know-who's the most powerful force the world's seen since Grindenwald, naturally Dumbledore's got some sort of defense up."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you joining them?"

"Who, the Order? Somehow I doubt it, since I don't know the official name and all."

"I meant the Death Eaters."

"I know what you meant. Sorry. I don't really know. I mean… if I don't, father will kill me, and if I do, you'll kill me, so… it's sort of a win-win right?"

"I don't want to have to kill you."

"So are you saying that I should join the death eaters because you won't kill me?"

"No. I'm saying that I don't _want _to kill you. I will, if I have to, but I don't _want _to have to kill anyone."

"So if I join your side then I'll be killed by someone who won't mind, and if I join theirs, I'll be killed with people with a conscience. That's so much better."

"Maybe you don't have to die at all. Maybe… you could just go underground for a while, stay hidden or something."

"Until everyone and everything around me is dead and rotting, until I go mad because I don't know what's going on with the war, I don't know if my family and friends are dead. That sounds like a great alternative Potter!"

"Well I'm sorry! War sucks, what more do you want me to say?"

"What a great campaign slogan, I can see it now, when you're running for Minister of Magic, you can have posters that say 'War Sucks, so I stopped it.' Pure genius Potter, really."

"Don't do this! Don't get all… bastardish on me! We were having a nice conversation and then you turn into this jerk! Just… Don't Malfoy."

"Well why the hell did you have to bring it up then?"

"Because I can't get away from it! This is my life! Worrying about who I have to kill and who I don't, recruiting my friends to die beside me, trying to see where people stand. Being Paranoid, wondering when Voldemort is going to pop around the corner and kill us all, this is my life! And I only bring it up because I'm worried. I don't want _anyone _to have to die!" Harry wanted to cry, and he wanted to smack Draco in the face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Draco sighed, "if I were in the business of giving hugs, I would suggest that you need one, but as I'm not, and as I won't, apology accepted."

"I'm putting you in the business." Harry said, and leaned backwards into Draco's chest, "because I need one, and asking Hermione to hug me would be inviting trouble."

"What Potter? Not enough affection as a child?"

"Nope."

"Tell me you're kidding."

"Nope."

"I don't get it."

"I said my uncle was a blowhard. Did I neglect to mention that I am the epitome of all that is terrible and disgusting? Uncle Vernon doesn't like wizards much. Thinks we're freaks."

"So you never got hugged as a child?"

"Well I'm sure I got rocked and fed and things as a baby, I mean… I'm alive and all that. But the best and worst of it was occasionally getting my ears boxed by them. And the occasional wrestling match."

"That may be the most pathetic thing I've ever heard."

"Thanks, I appreciate that so much. Really, I can't begin to tell you how touching your concern is."

"Sympathy is the last thing you'll get from me."

"Good."

"Jesus, you tricked me into giving you a hug, there's no way in hell I'll repent for every wrongdoing on my part. You deserved a large part of it."

Harry chuckled wetly, "We've been bastards haven't we?"

"Yes, we have been."

"I'm tired Malfoy." Harry said, his voice cracked.

"So sleep."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I'm tired of being a bastard. And I'm tired of fighting all the time, and I'm tired of needing to know how things work because I've had to spend too much time with Moody and I'm tired of all of it. I'm tired of worrying about whether you'll exploit this or not. And I think I really did come up here to jump."

"Shhh. Just sleep, it's okay, nothing is going to happen, there's nothing to worry about. Just sleep and everything will look better in the morning."

"It's already morning. The sun's rising."

"I know. Just go to sleep Harry, it's fine."

"Good thing it's the weekend," Draco smiled, "hey… you just called me…" Harry's voice trailed off as he fell asleep.

Draco smiled fondly, sadly. It was the scariest thing in the world, seeing Harry up here with nothing but his sorrows, it had broken his heart. What was left of it. Tonight was probably the only chance they'd have to say everything they needed to say, and he hadn't gotten around to it. "Just sleep Harry, and I'll be here."

Harry woke up comfortable and warm, where was he? He sat up and blinked a few times, his glasses were dirty. He'd just had the most bizarre dream, but that was to be expected from waking up in the Astronomy Tower. What was he doing here again? And… why was he covered in a blanket, and why was there a pillow beneath his head? All questions Harry didn't know, nor necessarily want to know, the answers to.

He'd had dreams like that before, someone in life, or in death, would talk to him for hours. He'd had many fascinating conversations with Cedric, but none of them seemed quite as real or as vivid as last night's had, if he tried hard enough, he could still feel the warmth from Draco's sweater. Stretching and yawning, Harry got up, leaving the blanket crumpled on the floor, and began the long trek to Gryffindor Tower. He had to brush his teeth, and he was sure Ron and Hermione would be wrought with worry. Harry sighed contentedly, he felt like he'd just had a nice cry, it was very peaceful.

He wasn't watching where he was walking, or really paying attention to anything, so it was no surprise he ran headlong into something and fell on his bottom. "Nice pajamas Potter, but the critics tell me that stripes are out this year."

"Great hair Malfoy. Did you stick your finger in an electrical socket?" Harry laughed as Malfoy reflexively reached up and smoothed his hair, finding not a single strand out of place. "Just kidding!" Harry grinned, "Care to give me a hand up?"

"Why in Merlin's name would I do that Potter?"

Harry shrugged happily from the floor, he was feeling oddly exuberant this afternoon, "Oh, I don't know. Just figured that maybe you were tired of being a bastard."

**Post AN:** As always, tell me what you think. I'm just apologizing for the twitching homophobia. I was young, naïve, and trying to pull off a 'Harry Potter that lived with his Uncle' shrugs. Oh, and I also apologize for any mistakes, I know for a fact there's a word in there that's supposed to be 'thought' but came out 'though' but I couldn't find it on a second read through. If someone wants to beta for those things for me, let me know, because I don't always catch them, and my recently-discovered, mild-dyslexia doesn't help much either. Later Days.


End file.
